As Far As You May Run
by MaydayParade8123
Summary: Three very important times Percy ran away, and the one time he didn't. Percy x Annabeth. Rated T for overall themes of depression.


Summary: Three very important times Percy ran away, and the one time he didn't.

_Disclaimer: I do not claim any rights to the Percy Jackson and the Olympians nor the characters mentioned._

;;;

Percy is nine.

His mother is scarcely home, working three jobs to support their two-person family. Apartments in New York have never been cheap, and Percy is far too young to work. His father has been out of the picture long before he was born, leaving his mother widowed and without the money to support a son.

She always tells Percy that his father had a good reason, and that someday, he will understand.

But Percy doesn't want to understand.

He just wants to help.

His mother has no clue, but sometimes he hears her crying at night. He doesn't know why – not _really_ – but he knows that his mommy is sad. He knows it's because of money.

So, on one January morning, Percy shoves some clothes, a drink box, and some snacks into his backpack. His nanny – yet another factor that's contributing to the money problems – is dozing on the couch, having laid him down for an afternoon nap a half-hour ago. Percy writes his mother a note, in the neatest handwriting he can muster, and says that he was helping out, and that he loves her very much.

And Percy thinks he's doing the right thing. Mommy needs more money, and Percy is one of the big reasons there isn't enough. He is helping. He loves his mother, and he doesn't want her to cry anymore. She doesn't deserve to be so sad.

After a moment of thought, he pulls one of the pictures off of the counter that features him and his mother's smiling faces. Percy's eyes well up, and he's feeling the ache of missing his mother already. He hopes that she understands why he is doing this. He nestles the frame between two shirts in his backpack, praying that it doesn't shatter.

Percy slips out the door as the nanny sleeps soundly, dead to the world, and with a resigned sigh, he runs away from home.

;;

Percy is thirteen.

He lives with a foster family, but it is not home. Percy's not sure what home is anymore. Percy's not sure if home even exists.

He keeps the folded up picture of him and his mother in his pocket. He's kept it there every day since he left home. It was there when he found himself on the doorstep to an orphanage. It was there when a woman walked outside, giving him a wan smile and asking, "where are your parents, sweetheart?" It was there as she took him in, put him a room with a kid who was five, and gave him a good meal.

His foster father is the nicest man on earth, Percy's sure. He's always smiling, calling Percy "son" and giving him everything he needs. And Percy appreciates it, he really does, but he's not _happy_. He hasn't been happy for a while. He hasn't been happy since the first time he caught his mother crying. Happy seems more like a foreign concept, than anything.

He goes to middle school now, but he doesn't like it. Percy will never fit in; anywhere he goes, he's deemed the outcast. No one really talks to him, and he doesn't really talk to anyone, but it's okay. He doesn't mind being alone.

Percy doesn't have a girlfriend, and everyone is dating each other in middle school. He sees girls who are pretty, and he even had a crush on a girl at some point, but Percy wasn't a man of action. Not at school, anyways.

His foster family houses two other kids; kids who are blood-related to the parents. Percy feels left out sometimes, and they try their best to include him, but Percy doesn't want to be included. He's not sure what he wants.

Before long, he feels like he's a burden. The foster family wants to move, but Percy fears the prospect. Here is safe. He knows here. He likes it here, sort of. Here is better than a new place, a new town, with new people he hasn't grown used to.

The father feels bad, but he wants to take the opportunity for this important job in California. It's on the other side of the country. His foster mom – who never quite measured up to his real mom – is supportive. She tries to convince Percy that it's for the best, and Percy stops talking.

This happens for three days. His foster mom comes into his room and exchanges one-sided pleasantries before talking to him about relocating. But he never answers. He stares at her, and he hears the words, and he understands, but he can't say anything. He doesn't know _what_ to say.

This family took him in. This family cares about him. And here Percy is, selfish beyond belief, and refusing to move.

So, he does the only thing he knows how to do – he leaves.

With his new, more mature backpack slung over his shoulder, stuffed with two sets of clothes, a toothbrush, food, and water, Percy slips out his window.

He doesn't leave a note this time.

;;

Percy is fifteen.

He's living at an abandoned warehouse. It's not the nicest, but at least he's not a burden anymore. He still goes to school, but his foster parents have never showed up to look for him. That hurts, but only a little, because this means that they understand. No one has found his place of residence yet, and kicked him out. By some miracle, or mistake, the electricity and water still works. He works at a coffee shop, washing dishes. It pays hardly anything, but it's enough to buy cheap clothes and food.

Percy is at a different school, with the same people, and he's starting to realize that the girls are getting prettier. And apparently, he's not so bad himself.

He still hasn't had a girlfriend, and that doesn't really bother him. He still likes being alone. He hasn't liked a girl in a while, and he finds the whole high school experience odd. Why does everyone _have_ to like someone to sleep at night?

Percy doesn't have that either. Sleep. It happens sometimes, but every time he wakes up, he feels more tired than before. He wonders if somethings wrong with him, but he refuses to go to the doctor.

He struggles in school. The work is more complicated. His English teacher tells him that he has dyslexia. Percy doesn't like the sound of that. It sounds serious. There's a guy with blonde hair who teases him sometimes, but not in a nice way. And everytime he does, there's a nice blonde girl who tells him to shut up. Percy appreciates her; appreciates what she does for him. If he talked more, he would thank her.

The only time Percy utters a word is when teachers address him. If any of the students did – which they don't – they would have to ask yes or no questions. Percy is not good at high school. He's not good at socializing. He's not good at fitting in.

He's surprised when the blonde girl sits with him at lunch one day. He usually sits alone, but this is okay, too. She smiled politely at him, and greets him. Percy nods to her.

"I'm Annabeth," she says. Percy nods. "And you're Percy." He nods again.

And they leave it at that. Percy values silence, and it seems that she does, too. He can tell that she wants him to talk, but she's not pushy. He is grateful for that. When the lunch bell rings, Percy stands. "Can I sit here again tomorrow?" Annabeth asks.

Percy looks confused, because since when has anyone _wanted_ to sit by him? But she looks genuine, and Percy hasn't had a friend for a while, so he nods. She smiles, says her farewell, and leaves. Percy waits until he's in his next class, before anyone else has entered. He double checks to make sure he's alone, and then Percy allows himself to smile. And it's a secret smile, merely a stretching of lips, but it's the biggest he's smiled in a long time.

But when Annabeth starts sitting with him everyday, Percy feels uncomfortable. He feels like a problem, because she wants him to talk, but Percy has nothing to say. And if he did, he wouldn't know _how_ to say it. She's pretty, and Percy is nervous. She wants to hear what he has to say, and that makes him even more apprehensive. He doesn't want her to leave, but Percy also doesn't want to be the reason why she looks frustrated sometimes.

"Can you say something, please?" Annabeth asks one day, when she tells Percy about a bad day at home. Percy sympathizes, and maybe feels like he should hug her, but he doesn't show affection. Not for a long time. After a minute of silence, Annabeth sighs. "It was worth a try," she mutters.

Percy feels bad. He's the reason for her distress. This is all his fault; everything is his fault. Percy wishes desperately, hopefully and hopelessly, that he could stop messing things up. He bites his lip, and looks at Annabeth. She's rubbing her temple. Percy gave her a headache.

He stands, throwing his tray full of food in the receptacle on the way out, and goes home. No one stops him as he leaves campus. He can see Annabeth's relieved look in his mind, conjured up by the part of his brain that tells him he's doing right, and he believes that she is assuaged now that his existence isn't pressuring her. And that makes him feel better.

He goes home, and packs up his things. He needs a change of scenery.

Percy's not running away from home this time, though. He's running away from the only person he's cared for in a long time. But Annabeth wanted things from him he couldn't give – he couldn't speak; he couldn't tell her anything. Telling people things leads to making friends, and making friends leads to trusting friends, and trusting people leads to them leaving in the end.

Percy takes a long look at what had been his house for almost two years. He closes his eyes, and remembers that he's doing this for Annabeth. He's doing this because she deserves to be happy, even if he's not.

Percy wonders what happened to the eight-year-old, bright eyed and messy haired as he excitedly ran around on the playground. He wonders if that was ever really him at all. It seems like a far away dream.

He starts walking.

;;

Percy is eighteen.

He waves at the boy he shares an apartment with, and heads out to his first last day of high school. He's a senior, and he's going to graduate from the school he went to at fifteen. For two years, he went to another school, living with a kind man named Nico. Nico was twenty-four, with a steady job and an obligation to take in troubled kids. He was one himself.

Percy and Nico both work at the coffee shop behind their apartment. The owner is Nico's cousin or something, and their wages are good enough that making rent on the apartment isn't difficult. Nico's parents have passed away, but they left him with a giant trust fund. If he wanted to, Nico could reside in the richer apartments down the road, but he's told Percy that he prefers low-key.

The school is twenty minutes away, and it's a longer walk than his old school. Percy feels anxious, and considers turning around and staying home for the day. He only quickens his stride, though, knowing that this was his last year. One more year, and he can be done with high school. It fuels his pace.

Percy's stomach swoops when the school comes into his view. He thinks of Annabeth – a girl who he never forgot – and wonders if she's still here. He hopes, in an almost reluctant way.

People stare as he walks up the steps. He's not sure if it's because they recognize him, or if it's because he's essentially a new kid. He thinks it's the second. Percy hears whispers, and he scowls. He didn't understand why people only opened their mouth to talk about others. Maybe that's why he never talks; because his mother always taught him that if you don't have anything nice to say, you shouldn't say it at all.

Earlier that week, he visited the school. He's memorized his schedule and his locker location. He hopes that his classes aren't as difficult as they sound.

Percy considers running away when he sees a flash of curly blonde hair opening the locker next to his. Percy's stomach bottoms out, and he thinks that he's going to throw up. He knows that hair – he'd stared at it curiously for a while, every day during lunch. More importantly, he knows who it belongs to.

With a deep breath, he walks up to his locker with downcast eyes, opening it at lightning speed, hoping that she doesn't notice him – but also hoping that she does. He puts a textbook in and waits – waits for her to walk away so he can breath again – but his locker is slowly shut by a dainty, tan hand. And Percy winces, because he knows she's seen him.

"You're back," she says flatly. Percy nods. "Still not talking?" Percy shrugs. "How have you been?"

Percy looks at her now, hesitantly, because he's not sure if he wants to, but then he's glad that he did. Annabeth is prettier, and she still doesn't wear as much make-up as everyone else. He finds his eyes catching at her lips as he carefully memorizes her face all over again.

Then – he feels this feeling. And he thinks he wants to kiss her. Elegant as ever, Percy blushes fiercely, answering her question with yet another shrug and downcast eyes.

He's about to walk away, because it's silent, but for some reason, arms are enveloping him tightly. Percy thinks that the hall goes silent, but he notices that it's because all of his senses are attuned to Annabeth. He hugs her back, holding her as if she's made of glass, and tries to think of the last time he recieved a hug. It's been years.

"I missed you," is all Annabeth says, and Percy feels something tug in his chest. He only nods though, for once wanting to speak, but not trusting his voice. She keeps hugging him, and Percy wonders how long these things are supposed to last, but then he feels a sharp pain in his shoulder. "I thought you were dead!" It's a hushed whisper, and Percy's not sure how to reply. He shakes his head, because he's very much breathing. The pain hits again as Annabeth shoves him. Her glare is strong as she evenly says, "don't you _dare _do that to me again."

Percy nods.

;;

He doesn't have any classes with Annabeth because she's smart. All of her classes are honors, or college classes, and Percy suddenly wishes that he applied himself more.

Since seeing Annabeth again, he kind of wants to look at her forever. She has this thing about her, and it makes Percy feel like he could stare at her for years. He sees something new every time. A new freckle, a new gleam in her eye, a new twist to her lips, a new, perfect curl atop her head.

Percy's happy when he sees that she has the same lunch as him. She is waiting in line, probably to buy a water and a salad, just like she did back when they were fifteen. Percy moves to stand in line next to her, and not because he wants to be further up in the line. He just wants to stand next to her.

When she smiles, he knows it was worth all the dirty looks thrown his way. "You have this lunch?" Annabeth questions, paying for her food. Percy glances down, and notes that he was right. She carries a salad and a bottle of water. He clears his throat and nods. "Can I sit with you?"

Percy allows one corner of his mouth to quirk as he nods. Annabeth grins again, and Percy is worried about how fast his heart is beating.

They sit at a table in the corner, away from the loud popular group. By the way they are staring, Percy knows that she used to sit with them. "You still aren't going to talk?" Annabeth inquires.

Percy gives an apologetic shrug. She nods though, as if she were anticipating his answer. "Can we try something, then?" Percy cocks his head to the side in silent questioning, but Annabeth slides a notebook out of her backpack. "I'm going to write, and then I want you to answer me. Can you do that?"

Percy doesn't really want to, because if he can't think of anything to say normally, why will writing on paper change anything? But he gives her an affirmative response, because she looks excited, and her pencil is already poised to write. She scribbles for a quick moment, turning the notebook to him with an expectant look.

As Annabeth begins to eat, Percy reads her question. _What happened to you?_

He hesitates for a full minute before writing two words: _I left_.

Annabeth rolls her eyes as she reads his response, giving him a dry look. "No, really?" The evident sarcasm in her voice makes Percy bite back a smile as he continues his answer. _I went to a different school for a while._

"Why?" Annabeth questions aloud, too busy eating to pause and write. Percy's okay with that, though. He doesn't want to inconvenience her. "Why did you move?"

Percy sighs then, because he's obviously not telling Annabeth that it was because of her. However, Percy values the truth just as much as he values silence, so he settles for writing "_I was scared._"

"What of?" Annabeth prompts.

Percy winces, not thinking about the fact that she would surely ask that. _You_, he writes finally. Annabeth scowls at the paper. He panics. _Not you in general,_ he adds. _But the way you made me feel._

It's the most honest he's ever been with anyone, and his cheeks turn bright red as he notices what he wrote. Annabeth stares at the paper, he expression giving away nothing. "How did I make you... feel?"

Percy huffs. _I can't tell you. It'll make things weird._

"It won't," Annabeth assures him.

_It will, _Percy writes, underlining the 'will'. _And I don't want things to be weird. I like how they are._

"Percy," Annabeth says suddenly, after reading his answer. "Would you like to have dinner with my family tonight?"

Percy's eyes widen as he scribbles a _"what?"_

"I know it's kind of... soon," Annabeth says. "But I think they would like you."

_Do _ _you _ _have _ _a _ _giant _ _whiteboard _ _I _ _can _ _write _ _on _ _through _ _all _ _of _ _dinner_ _?_

Annabeth laughs at his response, taking into account Percy's sarcastic look. "They won't mind that you don't talk. I'll tell them. They'll ask you yes or no questions."

_You hardly know me_, Percy answers.

"No point in getting to know you if my parents don't like you anyways," Annabeth replies, sticking out her tongue. Percy thinks it's cute, and then he blushes. "You're blushing," Annabeth calls him out.

He scowls deeply at her. _Shut up_, he writes. _I am not_.

"Sure," Annabeth says, grinning. He wants to smile, too, but not yet. "Why aren't you eating?"

_I _ _had _ _a _ _really _ _big _ _breakfast_ _._

"Oh?"

_Yeah_ _. _ _I _ _like _ _food_ _._

Annabeth snorts in laughter, and Percy's happy that he makes her laugh. He likes that feeling. "Well, you'll love my stepmom. She cooks a lot."

_Do _ _you_ _?_

Annabeth shrugs. "I'm pretty good at it, I guess. But since she does it, I don't usually have to."

_Oh_, Percy scrawls, _that's nice of her._

Annabeth gives him an odd look, but then the lunch bell is ringing, and Annabeth gathers up her notebook. "Meet me by the flagpole out front, okay?" Percy nods in confirmation, and she smiles at him before shouldering her backpack and leaving. He stares after her, and wonders what just happened.

His classes are hard, as he had feared, but his teachers are nice. Percy feels like they will cut him some slack for his "learning disability". They think that he's mute, and Percy thinks that's fine, because he doesn't like to talk anyways. He can, and sometimes he does, but he just prefers not to. Words hurt, words offend, words confuse and words can never say what you really want them to. Percy finds words to be very useless things.

When the last bell of the day rings, Percy takes a while to get to his locker. It's not because he's avoiding the meeting with Annabeth, but it's because so many people shove him in the halls. They aren't doing it on purpose, Percy knows. He's just... invisible. He shoves all of his books in his locker, opting to blow off every bit of homework he had. He has several papers that need to be signed by a parent, but he doesn't have that anymore.

He wonders if maybe he should contact her, but he thinks that she must be better off. Most people are better off without him.

Annabeth is on her phone when he finally arrives, and he stands a bit awkwardly off to the side, wanting to give her space for a private conversation. Percy still hears every word though, at least from her side, and he infers that she's talking to one of her parents. When she finally removes the phone from her ear, she smiles happily and starts walking. Percy follows; he probably always will.

"Dad and Christine – stepmom – say that they can't wait to meet you. It took about five minutes to convince her that you weren't my boyfriend," Annabeth rambles. Percy almost smiles at that. "And they say that you can stay with me until dinner. We'll probably be home alone for ten minutes or so. My little brothers get home a few minutes after me. Do you have anyone you need to call?" Percy stares at her, biting his lip, and holding his hand out for her phone. She catches the innuendo, handing it over without hesitation.

He composes a text, telling Nico that he'd be back later so that he doesn't worry. He probably wouldn't have, because Nico trusts Percy to stay safe. Annabeth continues walking when Percy stops to type, and she's opening her car door when he finishes and looks up.

Annabeth has a nice car – a sleek charcoal Lexus – and Percy's eyebrows raise in appraisal. She smiles and shrugs. "I made perfect scores in all of my classes last year." Percy wants to talk then, because he likes talking to Annabeth. He likes hearing her voice, and her laugh, and maybe this is all his pent up emotion from three years ago, but he feels more connected to her than any friend he's ever made.

She understands that he doesn't talk though, and the whole way to her house, she surfs subjects, sometimes looking to Percy for some sign that he was listening. He always nods vigorously, letting every word that flows from her mouth sink into his skin and burn it's way into his mind. He needs to remember this – every moment – for whenever it's over, and all he has is memories.

Before he knows it, they're stopping in front of a classic brick house with a white door. It's pretty, Percy thinks, and he steps out of the car only after Annabeth does. She yanks her backpack out of the backseat, lugging it up to the front door. She struggles to unlock the door and hold her bag at the same time, so Percy takes it. "Thanks," Annabeth tells him. He nods.

The door finally swings open, and Annabeth waltzes inside. Her shoes are kicked off almost immediately as she strides into the next room over. Percy feels uncomfortable, because this is the first time he has ever been to a friends house, if he doesn't count Nico. He glances around for a moment before following Annabeth into the room she entered, and notices that it's a kitchen. She's piling Oreo's on a plate, pouring two glasses of milk. Her backpack is still slung over Percy's shoulder, and she sets the Oreo's and milk on the table before taking her backpack.

Annabeth retrieves the notebook once more, opening it up to the page they left off on, and starts talking. "Dad and Christine are really easy to impress, trust me. As long as you don't act like a delinquent, my dad will like you. Christine will like you because you're tall, dark and handsome, not to mention that she's been wanting me to date someone for years. She'll probably drop little hints, so I apologize in advance." Annabeth pauses as she sees Percy hand start moving across the paper. She pushes a glass of milk over to Percy and puts the Oreo's between them.

He shoves the notebook over into her view, and Annabeth smiles at his words. _I'm tall, dark and handsome?_

"Yeah," Annabeth replies, dipping an Oreo in her cup of milk. "Everyone thinks you're really hot at school."

_And _ _you_ _?_

"It'll make things weird if I tell you," Annabeth mocks. Percy scowls at her and eats an Oreo moodily. She smiles, and he wonders why. "They think you're a new kid."

_Do I really look that different?_ Percy writes after sanding the Oreo crumbs off of his hands.

Annabeth examines him, narrowing her eyes. "You _are_ a lot taller. And you're more... defined?"

_Are you saying that I have nice muscles?_ Percy smirks at her as he dots the question mark, and Annabeth thinks it's a nice expression on him.

"No," she says unconvincingly, and then she hears Percy laugh for the first time.

It sounds gravelly, as if it's been awhile since he has, and after his small fit of laughter, he looks shocked. _I haven't laughed in awhile_, Percy prints, confirming her thoughts.

"Well, I'm glad to be the first one in a while who made you," she says earnestly. He meets her eyes, and he thinks her eyes are maybe his favorite thing on earth. Not a moment later, the sound of the front door opening breaks the silence, and Percy jumps. Two young boys nearly fall over themselves as they race to the kitchen, but both stop in their tracks as they see Percy.

"Are you Annabeth's boyfriend?" the one on the left asks bluntly. Percy bites back a smile and shakes his head. "Oh. I'm Matthew," he proclaims.

"This is Percy," Annabeth verbalizes for him. "The other one is Bobby." Percy waves, feeling bad that he can't greet the kids with his own voice. He doesn't want to talk. Not yet.

"You're quiet," Bobby accuses.

Annabeth frowns disapprovingly at them. Percy dislikes the expression on her; a smile is way better. "He doesn't talk. As him questions that he can answer with a 'yes' or 'no'," she suggests.

"Do you like Annabeth?" Matthew questions, filching an Oreo from their shared plate. Percy doesn't like to lie, so points at an imaginary something across the room. While Annabeth is looking for what he gestured to, he's happy to find that the twins didn't avert their attention. He shrugs, nodding a little. Annabeth looks back as the twins shove each other and run from the room, already arguing over who gets what toy.

"What did you say to them?" Annabeth asks.

_Nothing_, Percy writes, giving her a dry look.

"Don't get smart with me," she warns. Percy rolls his eyes. "How old are you?"

_Eighteen_, Percy answers.

"Seventeen," Annabeth shares. Percy nods once. "Favorite color?"

_Blue_, he writes.

Annabeth doesn't seems satisfied with the trivial questions, so she asks, "Why don't you talk?"

Percy meets her gaze and gnaws ruthlessly on his bottom lip. He shakes his head, saying that he doesn't want to answer. However, when Annabeth gives him a sad look, he can't say – well, _write_– no. He sighs, letting the tip of the pencil hit the paper, but unable to write a word.

_I'm not good at it,_ he says finally. And it's not a lie, it's just not the whole truth.

"You seem fine to me," Annabeth replies.

Percy shakes his head. _I never know what to say, or how to say it. If I can write, I have time to think. The world doesn't stop for me to thinkof the perfect words to say when I'm talking out loud._

"I'd wait for your answer," Annabeth argues. "I want to hear your voice." Percy gives her a negative response, underlining it several times on the paper. "Why? Do you sound like a five year-old or something? Or is it creepily deep?"

Percy snorts lightly, writing "_no_" once more. _Words never help_, he writes after a moment. _They only make things worse._

"Not true," Annabeth digresses. "Not if you say nice things."

Percy gives her a look. _Saying nice things is even worse_.

"Why?"

_Because_ _. _ _It_ _'_ _ll _ _be _ _that _ _much _ _worse _ _when _ _the _ _person _ _leaves_ _._

Annabeth frowns deeply at the paper, and Percy hates himself for being the reason for her perplexed expression. "You can't think like that," she orders. "It's so pessimistic." He shrugs helplessly. "Not everyone is going to leave," Annabeth tells him.

_Maybe not intentionally_, he scrawls_, but eventually, they will_.

"So, what you're saying is," Annabeth starts, "you shouldn't get close to anyone – or even let them hear your voice – because they may potentially leave you?"

Percy scowls. _It sounds worse when you say it out loud_, he writes after a moment.

"Things are more honest out loud," Annabeth informs him. He doesn't look convinced, and Annabeth swallows her pride. "You are handsome. Quite, actually." Percy's head snaps up, and he stares at her wide-eyed and red-faced. "And you have really pretty eyes."

He buries his face in his hands, embarrassed beyond belief. _You proved your point_, he writes after calming down his external temperature.

"I meant it," she tells him.

Percy blushes again. _Then, thank you_. He hesitates, his hand fluttering over the paper before he adds, _I think you're beautiful._

Annabeth's cheeks heat up this time, and probably her neck, too. She smiles at him, and he bites his bottom lip into his mouth before scribbling a sentence quickly, before he loses his nerve. _That's how I felt about you when we were fifteen_.

"You liked me?" Annabeth questions.

Percy shakes his head adamantly. He underlines '_I think you're beautiful' _three times. _There's a difference,_ he adds.

"Which is?"

_Liking you is juvenile; thinking you're beautiful is completely different._ Annabeth isn't really sure what he means, but it made her smile anyways. She nods, not wanting to break the silence, and Percy leaned back in his chair, breaking apart an Oreo. They finish off the plate without speaking, and Percy finds himself feeling completely at ease before he writes, _I missed you, too_.

Annabeth smiles.

Percy bites his lip, and Annabeth notes that it has to be a nervous habit. _Why are you so nice to me? Why do you care at all?_

Annabeth blinks at the paper after he turns it her way. "Maybe," Annabeth says delicately, "because I see you better than you see yourself."

;;

Dinner went far easier than both Percy and Annabeth could ever hope for. Her parents follow directions, only asking questions that can be affirmed or denied with a nod or shake of the head. Annabeth stares on in amusement as Percy and her father have a mainly one-sided conversation, Percy paying full attention to her father's endless talk about model airplanes.

That was another thing about Percy she really likes. No matter what you were saying, he always stares at you intently, letting you know that you have his full attention. It's an intoxicating feeling, especially because it's _Percy's _attention. The boy she's been so consumed with ever since he left school, and didn't come back until now.

He turns and looks at her then, as her father thanks Christine for dinner. Annabeth's father is gone a few moments later, clapping Percy on the back to show his approval. Percy shakes his hand formally, and stares bluntly at Annabeth as Christine gathers the dishes.

He gives her a small smile, a private, innocent, silent "thank you". She nods and grins back. "It's eight; do you need to go?"

Percy pauses before nodding, because _yes_ he should get back to the apartment and clean – his end of the deal – but he doesn't want to leave Annabeth. She stands, drinking her remaining water and gesturing for him to follow. He does. He always does.

She's not sure why she does it – because it's been two years and they hardly know each other – but, it feels right as she grabs Percy's hand, intertwining their fingers. Percy gets butterflies and Annabeth wants to kick herself for being so impulsive. Percy grips her hand though, and Annabeth knows it's okay.

She drives him home, and Percy wants to kiss her again, but he can't. He won't.

He settles for looking her in the eyes, and conveying his thanks. She smiles in response, and Percy smiles, tight-lipped, at her. He gets out of the car, headed for the path that leads up the steps to the apartment – luckily on the second floor – but Annabeth calls out to him. Percy stops and turns, and she jogs up to him.

"Hi," she says softly. Percy waves and chuckles. "I just – do you walk?" Percy looks confused. "To school," Annabeth clarified, without a smidgen of grace. Percy nods. "Be out here by eight-thirty. I'll give you a ride."

Percy starts to shake his head, telling her silently that it's fine, but she hugs him quickly – so quickly that he has hardly any time to respond – and backs away from him. "Eight-thirty," she repeats. He nods now, waving gently to her. She gets back into her car and drives away.

Percy smiles into thin air, thinking that this must be what happy feels like.

;;

Annabeth picks him up every day for two weeks, and Nico relentlessly teases him about having a girlfriend. Percy shakes his head every time, and Nico cackles to himself.

Within those two weeks, he'd gathered enough money from the coffee shop to buy a phone – finally – and he gets a nice one, the new iPhone. If he's going to spend a lot of money, go big or go home.

He only has two numbers – Nico's and Annabeth's – and maybe it's a little sad, but Percy doesn't mind. They _are_ his only two friends, and why should he have someone's number that he's not friends with? Plus, he gets to talk to Annabeth more.

Annabeth texts him on Monday morning, informing him that she has a massive migraine and won't be at school. And Percy has _really_started to care about Annabeth. He considers her his best friend, though he's never told her. Despite the two-year lapse in their friendship, they just _clicked_, and got each other so easily.

He's had perfect attendance for the past two weeks. He decides that a Monday spent coddling Annabeth was better than school without her. Percy informs her that he's coming over, and she scolds him, but never tells him not to visit.

The walk takes about thirty minutes, but Percy decides that it's worth it when Annabeth calls him "the best friend in the history of friends".

She invites him in with an indulgent smile, seats him on the couch and leaves to get water. She comes back, and hands him his glass, but the metal bracelet on his arm scrapes it. Annabeth winces and rubs her temple, and Percy realizes that this is the second headache he's given her.

"Sorry," she mutters after a moment. "I get migraines sometimes." Percy nods and tries to squeeze some sympathy into his eyes. He used to get headaches, too. "My doctors say it's because I read too much. It strains my brain because of my dyslexia."

Percy gives her a curious look, glancing around for paper, but seeing none. He instead pulls out his phone and starts a note, typing, _Youhave dyslexia?_

Annabeth nods and Percy feels something. He's not sure what that flutter in his chest was, or why he really wants to smile all of a sudden. He presses 'enter' a few times, then answers, _Me too._

Annabeth smiles then, and it's an odd smile. "Well, Jackson, seems we have some mutual ground after all." She flinches again though, rubbing her temple, and Percy thinks about how she looked the day he left. She looks older now, no doubt, but it's almost the same picture, and causes Percy to get a wave of deja vu.

He pulls his phone back to himself, and starts typing. It's maybe the longest thing he's ever made Annabeth read, but he hopes she doesn't mind. _I'm sorry for leaving that day. I just didn't know what to do, because I've never really thought about anyone that way. I didn'twant to be a problem._

Annabeth doesn't seem to think it's long at all though, and she looks confused. "Why would you be a problem?"

Percy looks at her odd, as if to say, "why _wouldn't _I be a problem?"

Annabeth leans on his shoulder then, and rests one of her hands in the crook of his elbow. Percy knows that he has to be on fire, because there's no reason his skin should feel so hot just because it's Annabeth. "Percy, you've never been a problem."

He's not entirely sure why the words mean so much to him, but he finds his eyes stinging. He doesn't even notice that he's crying until water falls on his hand. Then Percy jumps slightly, because he wasn't even sure he could cry anymore.

He used to, years ago. Every night, he would end up crying. Not gut-wrenching sobs, but the silent tears with a blank expression. That's when you know someone's hurting. In recent years, he'd lost the ability to cry. He would just stare blankly at the ceiling, and wonder what made him the way he was.

Tears keep falling, and Percy feels weaker than he ever has before. He's never let anyone see him cry, especially not a girl, but here he is. He covers his face, trying to gather his wits and stop before Annabeth sees, but by the way she's suddenly hugging him, Percy knows that she did. She hugs him tight, and it only makes Percy want to cry harder. He never makes a sound, but tear tracks keep appearing on his face.

"I'm sorry," she says after a while, when Percy's managed to stop being so emotionally unstable. "I didn't mean to make you cry."

Percy shakes his head instantly, fumbling for his phone. _No,_ he taps out, _it's not that. No one has said anything like that to me before._

"Well, they should have," Annabeth says, scowling. "No one, even the worst people, deserve to think that they're a problem."

_You_ _'_ _d _ _be _ _a _ _good _ _therapist_ _._

"Oh?" Annabeth questions.

Percy nods vehemently. _You're good at_, he pauses, _making me feel better._

"What are friends for?" Annabeth mutters.

_You're tired_, he types. Annabeth nods. _Sleep._

"I don't want to," Annabeth argues. "You're here." Percy rolls his eyes. "You'd be bored, and also creepy, watching me sleep."

_Not if I sleep too,_ Percy replies. He gives her a challenging look, and Annabeth scowls. _Tell me I'm right._ One corner of his mouth turns up, and Annabeth gives him a disapproving look.

"Whatever," Annabeth grumbles. Percy shoves her shoulder, giving her an expectant look. She meets his gaze, and Percy raises his eyebrows, waiting. "You aren't _wrong_." He gestures for her to continue. "Stop," she says finally, shoving him. She's frowning, and Percy's smirking because he knows. "You're rude." Percy shakes his head, still smiling softly at her. "Stop," Annabeth repeats, using an open palm to shove his face away. "Don't look at me like that."

_Like what?_ Percy mouths, too lazy to type.

Annabeth looks surprised. "Like... with that face."

_What face?_ he asks. Annabeth decides that she really, really like this method of communication better, because she has a reason to stare at his lips.

"Your face," she replies.

_My face,_ Percy repeats silently, raising his eyebrows.

"Yes," Annabeth answers. Her stomach twists slightly when she adds, "it's really cute."

Percy's face gets progressively redder, but he doesn't look away from her eyes. He loves them – her eyes. _Thank you_, he mouths.

"Remember how you felt about me? When we were fifteen?" Annabeth says suddenly, confidence rushing in her veins for whatever reason. Percy hesitates before nodding. "What about now?"

Percy shakes his head. _I'm not telling_, he stresses. _No._

Annabeth keeps staring at him, and Percy feels transparent. "Please." He refuses again, and Annabeth takes his hand, repeating her plead.

They stare at each other for a long time, Annabeth wanting him to say something, and Percy knowing that he can't. She's special, his best friend, and he doesn't want to mess that up. Annabeth leans closer, and Percy thinks he's dead. Surely, he has to be dead and this is what heaven is like.

Her forehead is touching his, and Percy's having trouble breathing. "Percy," she says evenly, and Percy envies her for being able to keep her composure. She pushes even closer to him, and Percy isn't sure what to do because he's never actually _kissed_ a girl, and it seems that Annabeth wants him to.

He tries taking a deep breath, but the result is a shallow, shaky, nervous gust of air. His eyes are closed tight, because he doesn't want to open them and find out that it was all a dream. "Percy," Annabeth says again, and it's barely above a whisper. Percy gets a delighted shiver at the feeling of her breath on his lips, and he realizes that he would only have to lean forward to close the space between them.

So he does, on impulse, and he's still – so still, deathly still – because _wow_, did he really just do that?

But then Annabeth is kissing him back, and it's _real_ and _not a dream_ and Percy's really not getting enough oxygen right now. She leans back, and it was short – much shorter than the amount of time others at school kiss – but Percy's glad she did. He probably would have died on the spot if Annabeth hadn't stopped.

Annabeth pushes him so that he's lying flat on the couch and Percy feels a rush of hysteria. He's _eighteen_ and just had his _first_ kiss and he has _no_ clue what he's doing, but Annabeth doesn't kiss him again. Instead, she lays her head carefully on his chest, slithering her arms around him. He cautiously wraps his arm around her back, and hopes that she doesn't hear his heartbeat. It's off the charts.

Annabeth snuggles into the crook of his neck, and says, "night."

Percy doesn't even bother with telling her that it's ten in the morning.

;;

When Percy wakes up, he scowls for a moment at how _warm_ he is. Only moments later, he recalls that morning – more specifically, what _happened _that morning – and he smiles. And it's a good smile; one of his smiles that make his eyes crinkle and his cheeks hurt. He jumps when someone pokes his cheek, and his smile fades only slightly as he opens his eyes.

Annabeth's still resting on his chest, but she's looking up at him. Percy bites his lip and Annabeth frowns. "I didn't want you to stop smiling," she grumbles.

Percy chuckles, and pushes a curl away from her face – which is just some dumb excuse for touching her, really. He doesn't really want to kiss her again, and not because he didn't like it, but because he doesn't know _how_. She pokes his cheek again, telling him to smile, and Percy can't help it as he follows directions. Annabeth smiles in response to his, and Percy can't stop staring at her.

He doesn't know what love feels like, but he knows that is has to be something close to this. Laying with Annabeth, running his hands through her hair softly as she smiles up at him. His chest is tight with missing her the moment she extricates herself from the couch. "When do you think you'll talk?" she questions, holding the two empty glasses of water in her hands.

Percy stares up at her earnestly, finding his phone because he wants her to know every word that he says, precisely.

_When _ _I _ _find _ _something _ _important _ _enough _ _to _ _say_ _._

;;

He finally does, a month later. They're exiting the school, _holding hands_, much to Percy's delight. They kiss sometimes, but it never goes far. Percy thinks that Annabeth senses his hesitance. And he's glad she understands – she's so good at that – because he doesn't want to admit to her how inexperienced he is.

It hasn't been a particularly exciting day, and Annabeth is rambling on about some assignment due in her history class. She's excited about it, Percy can tell. She's glowing, her hands moving to coincide with her words, and her eyes are bright. Percy's not really sure what she's saying, but she looks so perfect in that moment that he can't restrain from tugging on her hand so that she stops.

"What?" she asks curiously, smiling slightly.

It's very rare that Percy initiates the affection, but he pulls her face up to his and kisses her. It's intense, probably the deepest they'd ever kissed, and Percy is surprised at himself.

After he pulls back, he says the words he'd been practicing to himself. His voice isn't hoarse and strained as he simply says, "I love you."

Annabeth stares at him in shock, and Percy feels panic rising in his chest. _Too soon_, he thinks. His eyes fall to the ground, and he's blushing – he feels it. But Annabeth forcing him to look up, holding his chin up with her hand. He tries to avoid her eyes, but unintentionally, like magnets, Percy's eyes find hers.

Percy's eyes widen when he sees a tear fall down her otherwise flawless face, and he brings a shaky hand up to remove it, but then – she's kissing him. He can't breathe, between the panic of actually saying _that_ and, well, Annabeth always leaves him breathless, really. She's saying something against his lips, but he can't hear her over the pounding of his heart, clamorous in his ears.

Percy pulls back, leaning his forehead on hers and breathing. Then he hears what Annabeth had been saying over and over: "I love you, I love you, too."

He swipes the tears away from her eyes and Annabeth starts laughing. "I'm sorry," she tells him. "I'm not usually this emotional."

Percy nods, smiling, and says it again. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she says, staring into his eyes like they were the only thing she knew. "Yeah. I love you, too," she repeats, dazedly.

Percy grins, leaning down and kissing her through his smile. Her elbows rest on his shoulders and her hands find their home in his hair. Percy hears a whistle, and he's not sure who did it, but he smiles and laughs against her lips.

;;

Percy is nineteen.

And Annabeth is eighteen.

He talks now, more than usual, and never forgets to tell her how much he loves her. He tells her everything, and she understands. She's still good at that – understanding.

Percy has days where he doesn't want to talk. He has nothing to say, and he doesn't want to talk. Those are the days when he reminds himself that _yes_, _words do cause pain_, but just as easily as they can hurt, words can heal. He notices this when Annabeth leans into his side and tells him that everything will be okay. She loves him, and she'll always love him, and she doesn't plan on leaving.

And maybe, that's all he ever needed to hear.

;;;

FIN


End file.
